Sorcerer's Shadow - Chapter 52: Somber Sea

“Are you prepared to leave, then?” Nyxara asked. “You should depart soon because if you sleep, none of you will live again, and there are imperial rules against the undead holding official imperial positions.”

Thaleia said firmly, “I will not leave without my cousin.”

“So be it,” snapped Nyxara. “Then you will stay. However, if you change your mind, the way out is through the arch your friends know, then to the left, past the Cycle, and onward. You may take it if you can. The Lord Drevolan will find his life seeping away from him as he walks, but he can try. Maybe you’ll succeed in bringing a corpse out of this land, denying him both the rest of the Paths and the life he’s already forfeited. Now leave me.”

We looked at each other. I was feeling an overpowering wave of fatigue.

Out of options, we walked past the throne until we found the archway beneath which we’d first encountered Kyran the Conqueror. To the right was the path to the well, a tempting path, but I knew better. To the left was the way out, for Thaleia and me.

To my own surprise, I realized I didn’t want to leave Drevolan behind. If Thaleia had been the one who had to stay, perhaps my feelings would be different, but that wasn’t an option. We stood beneath the arch, all of us motionless.

The box’s opening revealed its contents—a sheathed knife. The uncanny sensation that had enveloped me when I touched the box became more intensified. To hold the sheath was no easy task, and gripping the hilt was even more daunting.

“Boss, this object unsettles me,” Opal conveyed.

“I concur,” I admitted, already feeling a cold shiver down my spine.

“Is it necessary for you to unsheathe it—”

“Yes, I must familiarize myself with it. Now hush, Opal. You’re not aiding the situation.”

With a deep breath, I drew the knife, feeling a rush of unease assault my senses. I could see my hand shaking and had to force myself to loosen the grip. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t dismiss it as a mere weapon. The thirteen-inch blade, honed to deadly sharpness on one side, boasted a good point but the edge outclassed it. The handguard was substantial, providing good balance, and the hilt was covered in non-reflective black.

A Norsanti.

Holding it until I managed to suppress my trembling was a challenge. This was my first interaction with such a weapon, and I silently wished it to be my last. However, I resisted the urge to make a thoughtless vow.

It was a terrifying object to hold. Its impact never dwindled despite the time. Some chose to carry such a weapon regularly. Were they disturbed or just made of stronger stuff, I couldn’t help but ponder.

I mustered the strength to make a few practice swings and thrusts. I arranged a Cedar board to practice impaling. Holding the knife away from me with my right hand while my left arranged the board, I probably looked ridiculous. But Opal didn’t mock me. I sensed his apprehension, matching my own.

Eventually, I managed to thrust into the board about two dozen times, forcing myself to treat the weapon casually. Even though I never fully succeeded, I found myself getting accustomed to it. Resheathing the knife left me bathed in sweat, and my arm ached from the strain.

I returned it to the box.

“That was quite a relief, boss,” Opal expressed.

“I couldn’t agree more. Let’s rest now. We have a long day ahead.”

As we stood, I questioned Thaleia, “What makes you so special that you can exit, but Drevolan can’t?”

“It’s the blood,” she responded cryptically.

“Are you speaking literally, or is it metaphorical?” I probed further.

She shot me a scornful glance. “Interpret it as you wish.”

“I see… Would you mind elaborating?”

“No,” Thaleia retorted tersely.

Resigned, I shrugged. At least she hadn’t used the irritating phrase that she didn’t owe me an explanation. We stood before a fork in the path, one leading right, the other left. I surveyed the right path.

I asked, “Drevolan, do you have any idea about that liquid Nyxara consumed and gave Thaleia?”

“Only scant information,” he confessed.

“Do you reckon it might enable us to—”

“No,” both Thaleia and Drevolan chimed in simultaneously. They seemed more knowledgeable than they let on. However, no further explanations were offered, and I didn’t press them. We lingered for a moment before Drevolan proposed, “There appears to be no alternative. You must proceed. Leave me.”

“No,” Thaleia refuted resolutely.

I found myself at a loss for words. After an awkward silence, Drevolan suggested, “Let’s gaze upon the Cycle, regardless of our decision.”

Thaleia gave a nod of agreement, and I had no reason to oppose.

We chose the path on the left.

We traced the wall to the left, following its curve that seemed like it would lead us to the thrones, yet we remained in an open hallway, devoid of a roof. Strangely, the starlit sky faded into a monotone grey, but the luminescence remained unchanged, which was quite bewildering.

The wall ceased abruptly, and we found ourselves on a precipice overlooking an expansive sea. This was peculiar as the nearest sea to NecroGate Falls was a thousand miles away. I had, however, grown accustomed to such geographic inconsistencies.

We observed the infinite, somber sea, absorbing its unending roar. Its vastness evoked curiosity about the unseen inhabitants beyond it. What was the quality of their lives—superior or inferior to ours? Did they live a life so similar I wouldn’t notice, or so distinct I wouldn’t survive? I pondered about their everyday lives, their comfort zones, their beds—were they cozy and secure like mine?

“Viktor!”

“Uh, yes?”

“We need to continue,” Drevolan interrupted my train of thought.

“Oh, I apologize. Fatigue is getting the best of me.”

“I understand.”

“Just a moment.”

I reached into my backpack, rummaging through my hoard of now useless Sorcery supplies, finally finding some Tivn leaves. “Chew these,” I suggested as I handed them out.